


Gonna Dream Of How You

by Jiksa



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Backstage, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 07:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14303955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jiksa/pseuds/Jiksa
Summary: 12 April 2018, O2 Arena, London.You can't tell me they didn't fuck backstage.





	Gonna Dream Of How You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Writcraft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/gifts).



> This started because of some nonsense in a group chat, involving an anon tumblr ask, a glorious typo, an undisclosed quantity of wine, and about eight consecutive hours of yelling at each other in caps lock about Nick at Harry's show last night.

Nick can’t stop himself from crying out when Harry shoves inside him, his forearms slipping against the exposed brick as he shoves his own hips back to meet him. Harry's hand is already over his mouth — this isn’t the first time they’ve done this, after all — and Nick bites down on the fleshy part at the base of his thumb, trying in vain to keep it in. It's so fucking good, so fucking _much_.

Harry’s rucked Nick’s shirt up enough to press his face between his naked shoulderblades, hauling in deep breaths as he waits for Nick to relax around him. “Babe,” he urges, his voice gruff and pleading. “Need to — please.”

“Just a minute,” Nick says, breathing through the burn as Harry’s fingers tighten impatiently around his hip. Christ, he always forgets how massive Harry feels inside him, how he makes Nick’s body feel too small to hold everything imploding inside him at Harry’s touch. “So fucking big.”

“Sorry,” Harry breathes, rubbing his face against Nick’s spine. His face and hair are going to be a mess after this, and he’s due backstage in mere minutes. “Come on, let me have you.”

Nick squeezes his eyes shut, reaching down to cover Harry’s hand on his hip with his own. It fucking hurts, all of this. Harry’s fat cock splitting him open, Nick’s inability to get him alone for longer than ten minutes, how Harry’s going straight to Glasgow after this, and then Australia, and then Asia, and then America, and then it’ll be summer before he gets this again.

“Nick,” Harry says again, and Nick lets out a shaky, wet breath. He links his fingers with Nick’s, bringing them both down to rub Nick’s cock. It only helps a little. “Come _on_.”

“Should’ve had me earlier if you couldn’t be patient,” Nick breathes, hoping it doesn’t sound as accusing as it feels. “Almost there, just— a little more.”

“Nick,” Harry whispers, tipping Nick’s head back to rest against his own shoulder. It’s hard to kiss like this, Nick drawn tight as a string against him, Harry trying not to get lube on his suit, but Harry licks into his mouth and Nick can’t help but give in. “Feel so fucking good.”

“Mmm,” Nick hums against his mouth, moving his hips tentatively against his. It fucking burns, but it’s worth it for the deep, guttural groan it pulls out of Harry. He does it again, wincing, chasing more of Harry’s clumsy, messy kisses. “ _You_.”

“Fuck. Fuck.” Harry’s fingers tighten against Nick’s throat, holding him tightly against his own face. What little Nick can see of him is all pinched and breathless and overcome. “Your arse is pure fucking magic.”

Laughter bursts out of Nick, fond and joyous and embarrassed. Tomo’s standing guard right down the hallway, holding Nick’s beer and Harry’s suit jacket. Nick has no doubt that he can hear them, which no doubt makes it even hotter for Harry. He’s always liked an audience. “Shut the fuck up.”

“You going to come on my cock?” Harry whispers, his teeth catching on Nick’s lower lip as he fists Nick’s cock harder and faster. He isn’t quite moving yet, but Nick’s started grinding back against his prick. It’s almost fucking, almost something else. “Walk back into the O2 with your arse full of my come?”

“Such a fucking narcissist, such a fucking _oh god, oh fuck, oh, Harry—_ ”

“Shh,” Harry scolds, as if he hasn’t gripped both of Nick’s hips and started fucking him so hard Nick’s had to reach out to steady himself, his fingernails clawing at the wall. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

Nick bites back a scream, bracing his forearms against the wall for leverage and shoving his hips back to meet Harry’s. The sound of it echoes in the cavernous hallway, an obscene too-fast slap of skin against skin. “Get me off,” he begs, knowing Harry’s not going to last long, knowing his stage time is looming over them. He could reach down himself, but he wants it to be Harry. “Please, Haz — _oh fuck, yes, ugh_ — don’t come yet, don’t—”

“Close,” Harry warns, tugging so hard and fast it’s almost fucking painful. Nick’s out of his fucking head with it— how good this feels, how much this hurts, how Nick’s trousers are around his knees and his butt plug’s on the floor beside them, and how he’s going to come with Harry inside him for the first time in months, for the last time in ages. “Nick, babe, come _on_.”

“Almost—”

“ _Nick_ —”

Nick turns his head again, nuzzling Harry’s mouth, begging for it.

It’s barely a kiss — Harry’s tongue, Nick’s teeth, a scrape of stubble and a swallowed curse — and Nick’s knees almost give out under him, his whole body going weak with how blindingly hard he comes. Harry doesn’t let up for a moment, hauling Nick’s hips back against his own, fucking in deep and hard and fast, relentless as Nick squeezes tight around him.

He’s past caring that Tomo’s down the hall, that anyone could walk past, that there might be security cameras or fans with smartphones or a pissed-off stage manager looking for them, that he’s so sensitive Harry’s cock in him feels excruciating, that this _thing_ between them isn't ever going to mean what Nick wishes it did.

Harry comes mere seconds after he does: a hoarse “ _fuck_ ” in Nick’s ear, his fingernails digging into Nick’s hips, his final thrusts making Nick lightheaded. He collapses against Nick, his forehead pressed against the back of his neck and his head lolling as he comes down.

“Never fucking get enough of you,” he breathes, holding still for a long, terrible, breathless moment, and then he pulls out quickly, mutters, “I have to go.”

Nick turns his head for another kiss, but Harry’s already pulling his trousers back up, wiping sweat off his brow, adjusting his shirt. Nick glances down the hallway, adrenaline crashing through him at the reminder of where they are and what they’ve just risked.

“Have a good show,” Nick says lightly, pocketing the discarded butt plug. Putting it back in doesn’t feel like an option, nor does carrying it around in his pocket when he’s about to hang out with Harry’s family and twenty thousand fans. He’ll find a bin on his way out, get rid of the evidence. “See you after, maybe.”

“Maybe?” Harry stops righting himself to frown at him. “You’re staying, right? After. You’re staying for drinks.”

__Nick shrugs. “Work in the morning, love.”_ _

__Something flashes across Harry’s face before he shoves Nick back against the wall, kissing him slow and deep and wet. Nick cups his face, losing himself in what feels like the very last stolen moment they're going to get for a long time. It takes everything in Nick not to hold him tight and beg for more. “Haz,” he whispers. ”You’ve got to go.”_ _

__“Mm,” Harry says, pulling back to nuzzle his cheek. “You going to dance for me out there?”_ _

__Nick strokes Harry’s flushed face with gentle fingers. He’s going to need another layer of foundation; he looks a fucking mess. Hopefully there’s still time. “Course.”_ _

__Harry smiles, the skin around his eyes wrinkling with it. “Lose your fucking mind, please, I’ll be watching.”_ _

__He gives Nick one last, lingering kiss before he pulls back, turns on his heel and walks away. Nick watches him shrug on his suit jacket at the end of the hallway, exchange a few words with Tomo, and then he’s gone._ _

__Nick’s beer is still mostly cold once Nick has pulled himself together enough to face Tomo. He wraps an arm around Nick’s shoulder, steering him back towards the green room. “Apparently I’m not to let you leave, later,” he says. “H was very polite about it, of course, but the penalty of death and threats of violence were both implied.”_ _

__“Right,” Nick says, letting out a steadying breath. Harry backstage after a show, wild-eyed and high on adrenaline and sweat-damp and beautiful, all of Harry’s friends and family and crew around them, Nick’s alarm going off at five and Harry getting on a bus to Glasgow sometime tomorrow. He shouldn’t; really, really shouldn’t. “Let’s get a little bit wasted, yeah?”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr post](http://jiksax.tumblr.com/post/172892030539/fic-gonna-dream-of-how-you)
> 
> Title from ["Medicine" by Harry Styles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e1pdUaTN1VM).


End file.
